A/N: Hello there! I decided to write about Nick and Jeff, Warblers from the TV show Glee. (I'll be honest, Neff/Niff/Jeck is my OTP.) This is my first one not about CP Coulter's Dalton, since Nick and Jeff don't really appear in her story. It's going to have one or two more parts. Anyway, the story begins with the two boys meeting for the first time, so here you go!
Snowing.
It was snowing, but to Jeff Kinsley the sky could have been hurling hail the size of baseballs and he wouldn't have noticed. He grinned up at his mother. Analise smiled back down at the six-year-old with white-blonde hair, marveling at how relaxed and happy he looked. He had been tense and moody lately, and she was worried.
Jeff kept a firm grip on the end of his mother's brown suede coat. It was the first time in ages, no in forever that they'd spent so much time together. Ever since Dad left, he'd felt like their large house had been emptied of any light or sound or laughter. Every once in a while, his mom made a brief appearance, generally at meal times. But for the rest of the day, Jeff wandered the marble hallways alone, wondering if this was how people stuck on desert islands felt.
But it was his birthday. His mother had plucked him out of the desert and brought him to the city, for a night of theater and fine dining. Honestly, Jeff didn't pay much attention to the play. He was mostly focused on Analise, pulling faces to make her laugh, drawing doodles on the program that she'd praise, and holding her hand in the quiet times in between. At the restaurant, he'd ordered off of the "grownup" menu, watching pride glow in her eyes as he told the waiter he'd like the soup du jour. And now they were walking down the darkening street to find a cab, and he couldn't believe that any of it had been real. Jeff leaned his head against his mother's side as they went around the corner of a brick building, his heart bursting with contentment.
The happy silence was pierced by a wail.
"Mama! Get up! Vstavaĭ! Pozhaluĭsta! Mama, please!"
Jeff froze, his hazel eyes going wide with fear.
"Wait here," his mother whispered, "I'll be right back."
The small boy watched his mom walk a few steps, then quickly caught up with her and clutched her hand tightly. He decided that he'd much rather face whatever was making so much noise with his mother than stand alone on the street.
The crying grew louder until they reached an alley between an abandoned travel agency and a run-down apartment building.
Analise peered around into the narrow space, then drew a sharp breath.
"Jeff, honey, maybe you shouldn't..."
But Jeff had already run to her side.
A thin woman with grey-tinged purple-brown hair sat slumped against the brick wall. She wore a ragged coat that looked far too thin for the cold winter night. Her eyes were shut, and her skin was faintly blue. A boy about Jeff's age with shaggy dark hair was shaking her, screaming in mixed Russian and English. Trash spilled across the pavement around him.
Jeff's mother ran to the pair, crouching down to grab one of the woman's wrists. She held it for a few moments, then immediately pulled out her cell phone.
Jeff stood nervously, watching the boy sit back and cry, as his mother talked to the 911 operator. He didn't like seeing the other one so upset, so he plopped onto the ground next to him, and took his hand.
The dark-haired boy jerked it away, looking at Jeff with suspicion.
"I'm Jeff."
"Huh."
"Who're you?"
"Nickolai."
They sat awkwardly, until Nickolai sniffled, dragged his dirty sleeve across his eyes and said, his voice choked, "I wasn't crying."
"Okay," Jeff wondered what was trickling out of his eyes, if it wasn't tears.
"It's just... we were walking, and she said we needed to stop for a second.'Cept I didn't wanna cause I'm cold. But she just leaned against the wall, and kinda... kinda... fell, I guess. I don't know why. She knocked over that trash can," the boy motioned towards the garbage surrounding them.
He quickly glanced at the woman, who had not yet moved. He hastily wiped at his eyes again.
"I told you, I'm not crying!" he said fiercely, although his voice came out in a sob.
Jeff looked at him with confusion, then asked, "Is she your mommy?"
"Yeah," Nickolai whispered, his face in his small hands.
"Can I call you Nick?"
"Yeah."
They watched as an ambulance arrived, and the EMTs loaded the woman, whom they identified as Ivanna Pietrov by the expired driver's license in her pocket, onto a stretcher.
Analise walked over to the two boys, and hesitantly kneeled next to Nick.
"Honey, your mom, she..," the blonde woman stopped abruptly as Nick looked up at her, his wide brown eyes brimming with new tears.
Analise sat right down on the dirty, snowy ground, and pulled the dark-haired boy close. He buried himself in her coat, his sobs mixing with hers.
Jeff watched them in astonishment. He felt a small twinge of jealousy, the want to be held like that, too.
Jeff's mom finally stood up, and took the hands of both boys.
"Let's go home," she whispered.